The Road
by Dolen Feredir
Summary: Dean and Sam run into unexpected trouble.
1. Chapter 1

The Road

By Dolen Feredir

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters associated with 'Supernatural.' This is just for fun.

* * *

Part 1 - Searching

Sam manoeuvred the car carefully down the winding road. He wanted to go faster, but couldn't risk it. His brother was out there somewhere and Sam didn't want to pass him or run him over, as the case may be.

Sam let out a frustrated sigh. What the hell had Dean been thinking? Encountering a demon was never fun, but running into one while alone in a forested area was plain rotten luck.

Dean had told his brother he was going out for a drink at the local bar, and Sam hadn't missed the fact that he hadn't been included in the statement. Obviously Dean wanted some time alone, and Sam could understand that. It was never easy to be cooped up with someone for months on end.

Sam had been relieved when Dean left the car behind. At least if the elder Winchester was going to get drunk, he wasn't going to drive anywhere. Sam would take the car out in a few hours to collect his brother from whatever trouble he managed to get himself into in town. It was, after all, too far to walk back while drunk. Dean might have amazing coordination, even under the influence, but that was no reason to be stupid.

Sam had dozed off shortly after Dean left. It hadn't taken long for a nightmare to present itself, though this one was not the usual one Sam endured. He had seen Dean running, being chased by something Sam couldn't identify. He could feel fear coming off of his brother, though Dean wasn't letting it overwhelm him. In his sleep, Sam tensed, knowing that whatever was coming for Dean was far too close . . .

The sudden ringing of his cell phone tore Sam from the nightmare. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was before he reached for the phone.

"Hello?" he said blankly, rubbing his eyes and trying to calm himself.

"Sam!" the voice on the other end was Dean's, and the distress was evident in his tense tone. "There's something out here. I caught a glimpse of it, and whatever it is, it isn't human."

Sam immediately stood up, grabbing for the keys to the Impala and heading toward the door. "Where are you?"

"I'm a few miles down the road."

"Do you have any weapons?" Sam asked as he ran towards the car.

"Sammy, I'm not an idiot," his brother shot back. "Of course I have weapons; I just don't know how much good they'll do on-"

Sam waited for his brother to continue. When nothing more was said, Sam felt his breath quicken. "Dean?"

No reply came from the phone.

"DEAN?"

Sam threw his phone onto the passenger seat and within seconds he was tearing down the road toward his brother.

* * *

Sam cursed under his breath. This was not working. It was too dark. He had no way of knowing what had happened to his brother, or where he might have left the road. Unless Dean found a way to draw attention to himself, Sam was not going to be any help.

A burst of static from the radio pulled Sam from his thoughts. He hadn't turned the radio on. Slowing the car, Sam stared at the surrounding trees with increased intensity. There were some creatures and spirits that could influence electronic devices. It was possible that something was nearby with just such an ability.

Sam felt a bit of relief at the realisation that perhaps Dean was fine, and it was merely his phone that had stopped working. That didn't explain why his brother was missing, but Sam was taking every shred of good news he could.

The radio volume increased without warning, sending country western music blasting through the car. With a wince, Sam reached for the knob to turn it down, but the volume remained on high. Sam stopped the car. He had to be even closer now, if whatever it was had that much control.

Taking a deep breath, Sam popped the trunk and climbed out of the car. With a wary eye on his surroundings, Sam grabbed some weapons.

Feeling slightly better, he hazarded a call to his brother.

"Dean?" he shouted. There was no reply.

A rustling in the bushes drew his attention. Sam pointed his gun towards the noise, glancing briefly to either side to ensure it wasn't a trap.

"Dean?" he ventured cautiously.

The bush rustled again before a black furry shape launched itself into the open.

Sam jumped back in surprise. He took aim once more, but at the last second held his fire.

With a disgusted groan, Sam realized the furry form belonged to a raccoon. As though recognising its reprieve, the rodent blinked at Sam before tearing across the road and into the safety of the bushes once more.

Sam once again scanned the surrounding foliage. Where the hell was Dean?

* * *


	2. A Lonely Road

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I hope you like this next part.

**Part 2 - A Lonely Road**

Dean set a quick pace up the road. He felt his frustration ebb a little every time his feet pounded the pavement. He didn't know why he felt so trapped earlier. He and Sam had been hanging out in the hotel. They hadn't been talking about anything in particular. Dean had been content with the intermittent silence at first, but after a while it started to grate on him.

Dean had never been what anyone could consider patient. He was a man of action. There wasn't much action when he was hanging around a manky hotel with his brother, who was contentedly watching a documentary on the life of earthworms.

He had to get out and do something.

"I'm going into town for a drink," he informed Sam brusquely. Even Dean himself was surprised at the hardness behind the words. Dean winced a little, hoping his brother wouldn't look hurt or ask to come along. Sometimes he really felt like he was kicking a puppy.

Sam glanced up from the TV, giving Dean a curious glance.

"Have fun," he said before turning back to his show.

Dean blinked at Sam's lack of reaction.

"Ok," he shrugged. Dean grabbed his wallet and checked to make sure his weapons were well hidden on his body. It really wouldn't do to have some backwater cop bust him for his illegal arsenal.

With a last glance at Sam, who appeared to be completely engrossed in the documentary, Dean left the hotel.

Dean decided to walk the distance into town. He didn't want to risk driving after a few drinks. With his luck, the cops would be doing breathalyser tests on everyone leaving the bar. He really couldn't afford to spend the night in the drunk tank. Not only that, if he left the car, he was pretty sure Sam would come and get him at some point. Leaving the car also provided Sam with a quick getaway if it was needed. If there was one thing Dean was good at, it was planning out scenarios in his head.

Dean wondered idly if Sam knew some of the stuff that floated around in the older Winchester's head. Dean smirked. His brother probably figured he was merely looking for a bar fight, and had no idea that Dean was preparing for any number of possible outcomes to his excursion.

As he started down the road that would take him into town, he risked a quick look behind him. As he suspected, Sam's silhouette was visible at the window, watching his brother walk away. He knew Sam would be worried, even though there was no real reason to be.

Dean had to grin. He was getting pretty good at figuring his sibling out.

* * *

It wasn't very long after he left that Dean began to feel uneasy. The darkness felt as though it were encroaching on the road and the unnatural silence in the stillness was almost deafening.

Dean glanced around himself warily. There was no reason to suspect anything supernatural. He and Sam weren't in this town for any reason other than it provided a place to rest on their way to somewhere else.

That being said, Dean had very well-developed senses when it came to things that go bump in the night, and right now, they were buzzing.

Dean stopped walking and peered into the forest. As he watched, a misty fog began to roll lazily through the trees. Dean drew his gun. It could be natural. Fog sometimes did just happen, after all.

A faint light became visible in the distance and began to draw closer to Dean's position.

Dean rolled his eyes. There went the 'it's all natural' theory.

He felt the familiar surge of pre-hunt adrenaline rush through his body. Dean was fully confident in his own abilities, but he couldn't help but wish Sam was there, too. It never hurt to have backup.

With a muttered curse, Dean realised he should inform his brother of this, just in case things didn't go smoothly. He reached for his phone with one hand, keeping the other trained on the growing mist. The fog had begun to swirl, and the light was drawing ever closer. It was beginning to brighten which, Dean had to acknowledge, was rarely a good sign.

Dean was forced to abandon the idea of a phone call when the light emerged from the trees. Dropping his cell, Dean pointed his gun at the light and waited.

As though suddenly deciding it didn't want to be seen, the light flickered and went out.

Dean looked quickly from side to side, but nothing was there.

Before he could react, a roaring sound reached his ears. Dean spun to face the road as a pair of headlights sped towards him.

They were moving too fast. Dean only had enough time for his mind to register that he was going to die before the car was on him.

A blast of cold air hit Dean, knocking him to the ground. He yelled reflexively, squeezing his eyes shut.

For a brief moment, it felt like he was caught in a wind tunnel. Enormous pressure pinned him to the ground and Dean's breath was knocked from his lungs.

As quickly as it appeared, Dean felt the pressure lessen. He took a ragged breath.

It took a second for him to realise that he wasn't dead. Dean cracked his eyelids open. There was no car, or any indication that a car had been there.

There was no way it could have missed him.

Dean anxiously checked his extremities to make sure they were all present and accounted for. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

What the hell had just happened? . . .

He stooped to retrieve his cell phone, pressing the speed dial that would connect him to Sam.

The phone rang three times before his brother answered.

"Hello?" Sam's voice sounded tired, but Dean didn't have time to feel guilty about waking his brother.

"Sam!" Dean wanted to get right to the point. "There's something out here. I caught a glimpse of it, and whatever it is, it isn't human."

"Where are you?" Dean could hear the weariness leave his brother's voice. Sam sounded concerned now.

"I'm a few miles down the road," Dean responded with another glance around him. He really wasn't in the mood for whatever game was being played at his expense.

"Do you have any weapons?" Sam's question brought Dean's attention back to the conversation. The older Winchester rolled his eyes.

"Sammy, I'm not an idiot. Of course I have weapons; I just don't know how much good they'll do on this thing. It isn't corporeal."

Dean realised with a start that the mist was returning. With a curse, Dean looked behind him to make sure no headlights were approaching again. It hadn't been fun the first time, so a repeat performance was definitely out.

Dean backed away from the fog, noticing Sam hadn't responded to his last comment. "Sam?"

His brother didn't answer.

"Crap," Dean mentally went through the mini-arsenal he had concealed on his person. Nothing would help against something without a body. The mist thickened and the light drew out once more.

"Now would be a great time to show up, Sammy," he said into the phone before finally deciding that, despite his pride, running might not be such a bad idea after all.


	3. The Fog

Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed! You guys are great!

On to the next part . . .

* * *

**Part 3 - The Fog**

Sam bit back another frustrated curse. He was never going to find Dean in the woods at night. The increasing fog had the younger Winchester worried as well. For some reason, it just didn't seem natural.

"Where the hell are you?" he muttered to his absent sibling.

He turned back towards the car. Maybe the phone he had discarded on the seat would work now. If nothing else, it was worth a shot. Sam paused before he reached the Impala. The hairs on the back of his neck were rising. He felt like he was being watched.

Something was out there.

He turned back towards the trees, taking aim with his gun once more. He hardly dared to breathe; worried that he might miss a sign preceding an attack. He stepped nearer to the tree-line as the fog began to thicken.

"Get in the car!" A sudden voice from behind him caused Sam to jump for the second time that night. He spun, ready to defend himself against the new threat.

Once again, it was fortuitous that Sam held his fire.

"Dean?" Sam stared at his brother in disbelief. "Where did you come from? What the hell is going on here?"

Dean stole a quick glance at the fog slowly emerging from the trees behind Sam.

Dean crossed from the other side of the narrow road, striding quickly to where Sam was standing. He took the gun from his unresisting brother's hand, grabbed a fistful of Sam's shirt, and pulled him towards the car.

"I'll explain in a second," Dean stated shortly in response to his brother's questions. "Just get in the car."

Dean practically dove into the driver's seat and paused only long enough for Sam to close the door on the passenger side before tearing away in a rising cloud of dust.

Sam turned to his brother in confusion. "What just happened?"

Dean took a deep breath. "I just got hit by a car that wasn't really there and chased by a light in a fog that came out of nowhere. That same fog was coming out of the trees back there. I just want to put a bit of distance between us and it until we can come up with a way to kill it."

Sam's mouth dropped open. "Hit by a car? Are you okay?"

Dean turned an incredulous face to his brother. "Dude, weren't you listening? It wasn't really there. I got hit by a ghost car – no actual damage."

They drove only a short distance before pulling over, though it was apparently enough to satisfy Dean. The elder Winchester wanted to think without the fear of being run over once more. He would never admit it to Sam, but the feeling of the frigid air blasting by and leaving him unable to breathe had unnerved him. He had been unable to move and the knowledge that he had been held completely at the mercy of whatever it was did not sit well with Dean.

He realised Sam was speaking to him. Rather than show his brother his state of distraction, Dean took a guess at what Sam had said and phrased his answer accordingly.

"The light and the car have to be related somehow. Things like that don't just happen coincidently." Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "The car was definitely some kind of apparition; it went right through me. Chances are the light is some kind of spirit."

Sam nodded in agreement. "I encountered some electronic disturbances on the road that would be consistent with that."

Dean raised an eyebrow in question.

Sam sighed lightly. "The radio turned itself on and the volume adjusted itself." He glanced at the now-silent radio as though noticing it for the first time. "It was still playing when I got out of the car. I guess we're outside its sphere of influence."

"That or it doesn't care about following us right now," Dean replied.

"What do we do now?" Sam asked.

"We see what we can figure out about strange occurrences in this town and on this road. We're probably looking for someone who died out here as the result of a car accident. Think you can find stuff on the computer?"

Sam nodded. "If they keep past newspapers online, then yes; if not, we're in for a library trip tomorrow."

Dean grimaced. "Wonderful."

He pulled the Impala back onto the road and turned around. It was back to the hotel with the Winchester boys, and Dean hadn't even gotten to have his drink.

* * *

Sam stole another glance at his brother. The drive back to the hotel did not take long, but the trip was made in silence. Sam knew Dean was troubled, but his mind was on the task at hand. That was enough for Sam. 

With another quick peek at Dean, Sam noted the elder Winchester's clenched jaw. Dean was definitely contemplating the demise of whatever had dared to run him over.

"Sammy, so help me, if you don't stop staring at me I will make you walk back to the hotel and you can take your chances with the phantom car." Dean hadn't even taken his eyes off the road.

"Fair enough," Sam nodded. He had a feeling there was more to Dean's distraction than merely being hit by a phantom car. After all, that sort of thing really wasn't that unusual for them and certainly would never have given either brother pause on a normal day.

No, there was something more to it than that, but Sam wasn't going to push it. Not yet.

They pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. Dean was out of the car in a flash, heading for the trunk to dig out some of his favourite weapons.

Sam followed more slowly, knowing Dean would collect his favourites as well. Sure enough, his brother circled around to his side of the car, pushing the hastily-packed bag into Sam's hands.

Without another word, the elder Winchester led the way to their room, leaving Sam to close up the car.


	4. Investigations

Sorry it took so long to post this part. Real Life can get a bit annoying at times. Anyway, here it is and I'll hopefully have chapter 5 up within the next few days. :-)

* * *

**Part 4 - Investigations**

With a loud sigh, Dean rubbed his hands over his eyes. They had only been at their research for a little over three hours, but that time, combined with the earlier excitement and their exhaustion from previous cases, left Dean feeling weary. It really had been a long night, and the brothers hadn't discovered anything that could tell them how to deal with the apparition in the woods.

Dean had actually gone so far as to raid the recycle bins behind the hotel, hoping that perhaps there had been some mention of a strange event in the discarded newspapers left by hotel guests.

There had been no such luck.

Sam had busied himself reading newspaper records from the entire county, going back as far as he could. There were no reports of murders, suicides or accidentsanywhere near the lonely road.

Dean glanced over at Sam. His brother had fallen asleep a short while earlier, his face planted uncomfortably on the table where he'd set up the computer. Dean didn't feel inclined to wake him.

The elder Winchester stretched and finally rose to his feet, trying to work out the kinks in his back. He paced the width of the small hotel room, then turned and paced back. He turned to pace again before realising that he hated pacing. With a grimace, Dean flopped onto his back on his bed.

This really sucked.

He stared at the ceiling for awhile, noting the interesting shades on the tiles- the result of years of mould accumulation.

Dean mentally shook himself back to the current situation. He needed to focus. He tried to compile a list of everything he knew about what he had seen.

There had been fog, a light, and a phantom car. Sam had reported electrical interferences.

Dean had been certain the apparition was in some way connected to a hit-and-run accident. His first thought had been that the ghost was reliving the event through whomever it happened to encounter. Though they had found nothing in the papers, Dean still leaned towards that explanation.

Dean sat up slowly. It hadn't been mentioned in the papers . . . but that didn't mean it didn't happen. It was possible he and Sam had been a little too literal in their search. Perhaps no one _knew_ someone had died out there.

With a muttered curse, he pushed himself off the bed and crossed the room to where his brother was sleeping. He swatted Sam's head with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

"Wake up, bro," Dean demanded. "No time for sleeping now."

Sam blinked owlishly at the grim form above him. "What's going on?"

"We're idiots; that's what," Dean replied, pulling over the other chair and settling himself in it. "What if the reason we can't find anything is because there's nothing to find?"

Sam frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Dean leaned forward slightly. "I think no one knows that our ghosty died out there."

"Meaning that there's a body still out there somewhere," Sam grimaced.

Dean nodded. "Who knows? Maybe our ghosty got hit by a car and the driver didn't tell anyone. The driver could have pulled the body into the bushes. With no reason to suspect anything else, the police could have assumed the person just ran away or something."

"I think you might be on to something," Sam agreed, turning back to the computer. "Let's see if we can find anything on missing persons in the area."

He began to search through the computer once more.

"Dean?" Sam asked without pulling his gaze from the monitor. "Why do you suppose no one's mentioned anything odd out there before? I mean, it must be a pretty powerful spirit to do all the things it's doing. You'd think someone would have noticed."

Dean frowned. He'd been wondering the same thing.

He shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe it liked me?"

Sam shot his brother a dubious look. "Maybe it _liked_ you? It ran you over with a ghost car."

"Good point."

"Maybe it has to do with the time of day you were out there?" Sam continued. "Maybe the ghost person was hit about midnight, the same time you set out."

Dean shrugged. "It's possible. Maybe it was the fact that I was walking and pedestrians are easier to hit with ghost cars."

Sam smiled. "That could be. How many people would walk down that road in any . . ." he trailed off.

Dean turned to look at him. "What?"

"I think I found something." Sam turned the computer so Dean could see the article. "This guy, Frank Lawrence, disappeared three years ago from this town. No one knows why he would have left so abruptly, or where he would have gone. He left everything behind."

Dean scanned through the article quickly. "No known enemies, either. Seems he was a bit of a loner."

Sam tapped his fingers on the table. "Could be him."

Dean shrugged. "We don't have anything else so far."

"If it is the spirit of an unburied person, we definitely need to find the body," Sam noted. "Though that's easier said than done."

"Not necessarily," Dean countered. "Our little friend could show us."

"You want to head back out there and talk with the thing that tried to kill you?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Why not?" Dean replied. "If it appears again, instead of running away from it, we can follow it."

Sam stared at his brother. "Running away?" The words brought back the fleeting memory of his dream; a dream he had forgotten in the night's events. Dean was running from something; something that was getting closer and closer. He had felt Dean's fear as whatever was chasing him drew far too near . . .

"Sammy?" His brother's voice jolted Sam back to the hotel room. He glanced around, but saw nothing other than Dean looking at him curiously.

Sam took a shaky breath.

"What's going on?" Dean asked lightly.

"Nothing," Sam shook his head. "Just tired."

Dean clearly didn't believe him, but he let it slide


	5. Searching for a Ghost

**Part 5 – Searching for a Ghost**

The ride back out to the road was made in silence. It was Dean's turn to cast curious glances at his brother as Sam stared out the window into the inky blackness. He didn't know what caused his brother to suddenly become so quiet, but Sam's mood swings were starting to grate on Dean a little.

Dean knew that Sam had noticed the scrutiny. What surprised him was that Sam finally pulled his attention from the window and turned to face his brother.

"I don't know if you should go out there," Sam stated bluntly.

"What?" Dean asked in surprise. "Where did _that_ come from?"

Sam shook his head. "This thing already ran you over; it could have something else in mind. I'm just saying, maybe it's better if I check it out and you wait in the car."

Dean caught a glimpse of the cringe that crossed Sam's face as he realised what he had just said. Dean had to admit, it was a bad choice of words. Now that Sam had implied he didn't believe his brother equal to the task, Dean's pride demanded that he not give in and Sam knew it.

Dean didn't bother to reply.

Sam sighed and nodded his head. "Okay. Forget I mentioned it."

Without warning, the radio burst to life, sending country music blasting through the previously quiet car.

"What the hell?" Dean yelled over the noise.

Sam reached over and tried to turn it off, but the radio remained stubbornly on.

At the same time, Dean felt the steering wheel begin to turn under his hands. The car began to speed up. Dean stepped on the brake, trying to slow the vehicle, but it had no effect.

This was not good.

"Put you seatbelt on!" Dean ordered Sam. Dean was fighting the car, trying to regain control. He couldn't do up his belt, but Sam could. With the short drive to their destination and the desire for a quick exit from the car, neither brother had bothered with their seatbelts.

_That was clearly a mistake now_, Dean noted as the car took a particularly dangerous turn at high speeds.

Sam clicked his belt into place and turned to see if he could reach Dean's. Without warning, a bright light appeared directly in front of the car. The figure of a man was clearly visible standing on the road.

"Oh, crap." Dean gritted his teeth. They were going to hit him!

Dean pounded the brakes, ignoring the blaring music and Sam's barely audible horrified curse. There was nothing he could do.

The impact was shocking. A blast of cold air slammed into the brothers, knocking the breath from their bodies. A brilliant white flash illuminated the car, blinding the occupants as they braced themselves.

Dean continued to step on the brake; cringing from the sensory overload he was experiencing.

The car finally responded and screeched to an abrupt halt. Just as suddenly, the light vanished and the car became silent once more.

Dean let out a small breath, watching as it fogged and then dissipated in the frigid air. Everything had stopped. His ears still rang from the music, but he heard Sam's short breaths and turned to face his brother.

"You okay?"

Sam swallowed. He glanced into the backseat and then nodded slowly. "I'm fine. You?"

Dean took a quick look out the windshield. There was no sign of damage to the car. "I'm okay," he said with a relieved grin.

"Please tell me that was the ghost and we didn't just hit a living person," Sam muttered.

Remembering the struggle to control the Impala, Dean nodded. "Pretty sure that was our ghost. Let's check it out."

* * *

Sam pulled himself from the car, trying to ignore the slight shake in his limbs. Seeing that light had reminded him altogether too much of the Woman in White who had tried to kill him earlier that year. He had been relieved to note that there was no one in the backseat. Sam let out a deep breath. The figure had been a man, anyway. Definitely not a Woman in White. 

He saw Dean grab the bag of weapons before his brother handed him a gun. Sam noted the rock salt bullets Dean grabbed as well. It wasn't much, but it would help.

The two walked behind the car, searching for any sign of the being they had inadvertently hit.

"Definitely a ghost," Dean muttered.

Sam nodded absently. "If this is where he was hit, it isn't likely that someone would move him too far away, right?"

Dean shrugged. "Probably not. I doubt the driver would put the body in the car, either. That leaves a lot of evidence. The damage to the car could be from hitting an animal, but blood in the backseat isn't so easily explained."

"Okay, so we start looking in this area."

Dean pulled out a pair of flashlights and tossed one to Sam.

"Let's get to work."

* * *

They had been at it for over an hour. It was just after 5am, and the sky was beginning to lighten in the pre-dawn. 

Sam scraped another glob of mud off of his boot. Apparently there had been a lot of rain in the area recently. It made trudging through the woods less than pleasant. Sam yawned and continued to look for any sign of a body.

He shot an annoyed glare at his brother. Dean was still going strong. How the man could function on so little sleep and so much stress was beyond Sam.

Sam kicked at a fallen log. This was ridiculous. The undergrowth had most likely grown over the body in the past three years. This was worse than a needle in a haystack.

"At least with a needle you can use a magnet," he stated grumpily.

"What was that?" Dean's confused voice broke into Sam's ponderings.

"Nothing," Sam muttered.

Dean shrugged.

"Actually, you know what? It isn't nothing," Sam announced in irritation. "We're trying to figure out who killed this guy and he isn't even helping. I mean, sure, he showed us _how_ he died and where. That isn't what we need now, though, is it?"

Dean whistled slowly under his breath.

"I'm sorry," Sam shot back sarcastically. "This just isn't my idea of a productive night."

"Maybe if we asked it for help it would pop out and show us," Dean suggested innocently.

As if in response to Dean's statement, a branch snapped somewhere to the right of the brothers.

The two Winchesters peered into the underbrush.

"I bet that's a raccoon . . ." Sam muttered.

"Oooo-kay," Dean responded before heading into the bushes where the sound originated.

"Do you see anything?" Sam called.

"Not yet."

Another twig snapped further ahead.

"I think it's leading us there," Dean surmised with a grin. "Wouldn't that be nice of it? I told you it liked me!"

Sam rolled his eyes, but followed his brother.

* * *

It was not long before the snapping stopped. Dean and Sam found themselves in an area where there had clearly been a fire some time earlier. Blackened stumps remained where towering trees had once reached into the skies. The trees that had survived the blaze were scarred from the flames and the resulting heat. The entiregrove had the appearance of a forest trying to re-establish itself after a fire. The new underbrush was thick, concealing the ground from view.

"We're never going to find anything," Sam groaned.

Dean frowned. Sam was likely right. It was rather like a needle in a haystack. He stared absently at the surrounding foliage and once again tried to piece together what he knew.

Frank Lawrence had been hit by a car. Someone had hidden his body, likely in the area they were now occupying. The forest had suffered from a fire at some point.

He tapped his fingers against his flashlight. He was missing something.

"Dean?" Sam's voice cut into his thoughts. "I think I found something."

He turned to his brother. "What is it?"

Sam held aloft a small rectangular object and grinned. "It's a wallet."

Dean's eyes widened and he motioned to Sam to open it. "Please tell me it's something useful."

He watched Sam's expression as his brother's grin widened. "Oh, yeah! That's what we need!"

"Frank Lawrence?" Dean surmised.

"Frank Lawrence."


	6. Revelations

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed!

This update is a little longer. It was going to be two parts, but I didn't like how it divided. As a result, it's one long chapter.

I hope you like it!

* * *

**Part 6 –Revelations**

"I want to know how that wallet survived the fire and three years of weather," Sam frowned at the seemingly innocuous billfold.

The brothers were on their way into town. They had no luck finding the body, but felt that perhaps Lawrence merely wanted people to know he was dead. They could inform the authorities and point them in the right direction. After that, their work was done.

Dean suppressed a smirk. "With everything that happened tonight- the ghost car, our car being taken over, the strange light, the snapping twigs leading us to the area and finding the wallet of the very man who's haunting the place- you're worried about how it survived?"

"Maybe not the most pressing question," Sam acknowledged. "Still, there's no money in here, but there's a picture of a woman."

He held up a blurry Polaroid shot of a woman in a waitress uniform. The woman appeared to be in her early thirties. She was holding a tray and the picture had clearly been taken as she was in mid-sentence.

"Girlfriend?" Dean questioned.

Sam shrugged and flipped the picture over. "Nothing here but a name and the year- Susan, 2002."

"Could be that Lawrence wants her to know he's dead. Unfinished business is one of the main reasons for a haunting."

"We'll make sure to tell her before we leave."

The sky had already begun to brighten in the early dawn. The little town would soon come to life as people went about their business.

The small sheriff's office was apparently unmanned overnight. No cars sat in the gravel lot.

"I guess a town this size really doesn't need a night shift," Dean noted. "Wanna grab some breakfast?"

The lights were on in the little diner down the road and a sign proudly advertised the best bacon and eggs in the county.

"Sounds good," Sam agreed.

Dean parked the car in front of the diner.

"Let's go." He looked back as Sam paused. "C'mon. I'm hungry."

Sam glanced at the picture in his hand and then back to his brother. "Do you think she works here?"

Dean shrugged. "It's possible."

"If she does, we're going to really make a mess of her day; telling her what happened to Frank. She might have gotten over it and we're just going to dredge it all up again."

Dean nodded sympathetically. "It's still better that she knows, bro."

"I guess."

The diner was small, but clean. Sam glanced around as they entered, but there was no blonde woman working there. An older, fifty-something woman was just putting on coffee when they approached the counter.

Dean flashed the woman his most charming smile. "Hello, ma'am. We read your sign and we're here for the best bacon and eggs in the county."

The woman smiled in response. "Well, this is the place for them. Take a seat anywhere you boys like. Can I get you some coffee when it's ready?"

"That'd be great," Dean agreed. He turned to find a table, noting with a slight annoyance that Sam hadn't followed.

He looked back toward the counter and saw Sam speaking softly with the woman.

Dean pursed his lips. Sam was asking about the woman in the picture. His brother couldn't even leave it alone until after breakfast. He pulled out a chair at the table near the door and waited for the younger Winchester to join him.

Sam thanked the waitress and turned back to Dean.

"What'd she say?" Dean asked as Sam sat down.

"Her name is Susan Morris and she owns this place," Sam replied. "She inherited it from her father after he died last year. Trudy told me where Susan lives. It's right in town, so we can talk to her after breakfast. She'll be up and around then."

"Trudy, huh?"

"She was very helpful."

Dean nodded. "You went with the friend of a friend story, didn't you?"

Sam shrugged. "Just passing through and had a message to deliver from an old acquaintance."

"Lame," Dean commented, shaking his head. "You really need to work on that. You are horrible at cover stories, Sammy."

"It's _Sam_, and I'm not horrible at it. I seem to recall someone else getting a little _too_ specific with his cover stories and nearly getting us arrested for impersonating police officers. You picked the wrong town to claim as your home base."

"Hey, I picked the most insignificant town possible. How was I supposed to know that a cop in another _state_ knew the entire police force in the town I picked?"

Sam shook his head but his reply was lost as Trudy brought them steaming mugs of coffee.

"Thank you," Sam acknowledged, taking the hot mug and wrapping his fingers around it.

Dean nodded his thanks to Trudy before leaning forward to inhale the strong aroma. "Ahh, that's the stuff."

"Should I leave you two alone?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dean shot his brother a withering glare.

Trudy smiled and went back behind the counter.

Sam took a cautious sip of coffee. Dean could say what he wanted, but if honesty was the best policy, then Sam would stick as close to it as possible.

* * *

The bacon and eggs had been quite good, and by the time the brothers had finished, the town had indeed come alive.

They left the car parked where it was and walked down the short main street. There was a car in front of the station and the main door was open to allow the morning breeze into the building.

Dean turned to Sam. "You coming to the sheriff's or going to see Susan Morris?" He allowed himself a moment of seriousness. "You know the police will handle it. They'll tell her what she needs to know."

"I'm going to talk to her," Sam replied. "I know the police would handle it, but something tells me she needs to hear it from us."

Dean raised an eyebrow. Sam always needed to complicate things. He shrugged. If that was the way Sam wanted it . . .

"Okay. I'm going to show the sheriff the location, then I'll swing back to pick you up. Shouldn't take too long, then we can blow this popsicle stand."

Sam nodded. "Sounds good."

With that, Sam turned and headed off towards Susan's house.

Dean shot a final look at his brother's retreating form before heading off toward the sheriff's office.

* * *

Deputy Sheriff Stuart Jones held the wallet aloft, staring at it intently. He opened it and flipped through it once again.

Dean bit back a sarcastic remark. Old Stuey was certainly taking his time.

The deputy sheriff appeared to be in his late thirties. He sported a crew cut and had the build of a man who had once taken great pride in his physical appearance, but had let it slide over the years. He was still muscular, but hints of a beer belly were beginning to show through his uniform.

Dean started to glance around the room. The little office was kept in a very tidy fashion. There were hardly any personal effects on either of the two desks that occupied the room.

Dean absently reached for the only picture on Jones' desk, only to have the deputy pull it out of his reach.

"You mean to tell me you found this while hiking in the woods?" Jones levelled his gaze to Dean.

Dean nodded and tried to look like a concerned citizen. The deputy just didn't seem to care. If Lawrence's body wasn't found, the ghostly manifestations could get more violent. They had to find his body.

Unfortunately, in this case, Dean had to acknowledge that Sam's close-to-the-truth policy might be the only thing that could convince the deputy to even drive out there.

"I heard that he's been missing for a long time," Dean stated innocently. "This could be a really important clue. Who knows? Maybe his body is in that grove somewhere. I really think you need to check it out."

Jones gave Dean a funny look before finally nodding. "Okay. If you're so intent on dragging me out there over a missing wallet, let's go. I'm not promising anything, though."

Dean nodded slowly. "That's fine, deputy. I just want to make sure something's done."

"I have to grab my gear," Jones sighed. "I'll meet you by my truck."

"Great." Dean knew his earnest expression was fading, quickly being replaced by one of disdain for the local law. He left the office, rolling his eyes once he'd turned away from Jones.

Jones watched Dean leave and shook his head. He'd just wanted a quiet day and now this. He picked up the phone on his desk. He had time to make a quick call before he left.

* * *

Sam was having much better luck with Susan Morris. He was currently sitting in her living room. Susan had dyed her hair a streaky blonde since the photo had been taken, but she was clearly the same woman.

She shook her head as she stared at the picture.

"I don't understand why he had this," she admitted. "I was never with him."

"Maybe he was just too nervous to tell you how he felt," Sam guessed. "I'm sorry if this is painful for you. From the picture, I really thought you were his girlfriend." He shrugged slightly, not really knowing what to say. "I don't know – I guess I thought that it might help knowing there was a clue out there that could indicate where he was. I didn't want to upset you."

"It's okay, Sam," Susan assured him. "I knew him, but I didn't love him. I thought he'd just run off when he disappeared. I guess everyone thought that. Do you really think he's in the woods somewhere?"

"I don't know," Sam replied evasively. "It's definitely possible."

_More than possible_, he thought dryly.

She put the picture on the table and sighed. "To tell you the truth, I never really thought about him much after he disappeared. It's horrible to think that he might have been out there all this time and no one cared."

Sam tried to force a smile to his face, but he failed. This was exactly what he had feared. He was giving upsetting news to someone who hadn't needed to hear it.

He glanced around, trying to figure out what to say next. His gaze fell on a picture of Susan with her arms wrapped around a smiling man. The pair looked happy and content.

"Is that your boyfriend?" Sam asked.

Susan glanced up. "Yes," she answered with a smile. "That's Stuart. He's my fiancé."

Sam grinned in response. "That's great! Congratulations."

"Thank you, Sam," Susan replied. "Can I get you a drink?"

Sam was going to refuse, but remembered Dean was going to be gone for awhile. He may as well kill some time here. He could always ask about the wedding plans. That would definitely keep a conversation rolling. He'd talk about anything as long as it wasn't Frank Lawrence.

"That'd be great," he answered.

Susan opened her mouth to ask what he would like, but was cut off as the phone rang. "Would you excuse me for a moment?" she asked before heading into the kitchen to answer it.

Sam sat quietly until he heard Susan answer the phone with a cheerful, "Hi, baby!"

Realising he didn't want to be caught eavesdropping, Sam rose to his feet and walked to the window. He hummed softly to himself, but could still hear when Susan's tone hardened. It sounded like a fight, though Susan was clearly trying to keep it unnoticeable to her guest.

Sam could understand that. He wandered over to the mantle and studied the pictures lined up along it. There were pictures of Susan with an older man; most likely her father. There was another of a woman who looked a great deal like Susan. Sam surmised it was her mother.

There was another picture of Susan with her fiancé. Something caught Sam's eye and he picked the framed image up to see it more clearly.

Susan's fiancé was wearing a badge.

He looked at the other picture of Susan and her fiancé. The man was wearing a badge in that photo as well. Sam frowned. Why was the sheriff calling home to fight with his fiancée when he was supposed to be going to the grove with Dean?

The sound of footsteps behind him startled him out of his thoughts.

Sam hadn't heard Susan finish her conversation. He turned to face her but any greeting he might have said died before it left his lips.

She was pointing a gun at him.

"I'm sorry, Sam," she said softly. "Apparently your brother is at the office and is pretty insistent someone investigate that grove. We can't have that."

Sam stepped back slightly, holding his hands out to his sides in an unthreatening manner. "We?" Sam questioned. "What's going on?"

Susan shook her head. "He didn't mean to do it. He was drunk and Frank had been bothering me. He was just trying to protect me."

"The sheriff killed Frank Lawrence?" Sam said in disbelief. _And Dean was with him . . . _He lowered his hands, now more concerned with getting to his brother than keeping Susan calm.

Susan's eyes hardened. "We have to go."

"Go where?"

"Stuart's taking your brother to the grove. We're going to meet them there."

Sam felt his muscles tense. "Then what?"

Susan bit her bottom lip. "We can't have anyone asking questions. Stuart and I have too much to lose. I'm sorry."

Susan seemed to shake off her momentary weakness and her expression hardened once again. She took a step back, ensuring that she was far enough away to shoot Sam before he could reach her if he tried to disarm her. She tossed a pair of handcuffs to Sam, who caught them instinctively.

"Put those on and don't try anything," Susan warned. "Stuart taught me how to shoot and I'm pretty good at it."

"Someone will hear the gunshot if you shoot me," Sam pointed out.

"I'll tell them you attacked me," Susan replied easily. "These people know me. They'll believe me."

Sam didn't move.

"I can do this here, or at the grove," Susan warned. "It makes no difference to me."

It made a lot of difference to Sam, however. Dean was heading out to the grove, unaware that he was with the very man responsible for Frank Lawrence's death. He didn't have too much of a choice.

Susan frowned and adjusted her grip on the gun. "I'm not a very patient person," she warned.

Sam slowly complied, fastening a cuff around his wrist, but leaving it just loose enough that he could slip out of it.

"Behind your back," Susan instructed, watching him closely.

When Sam had followed her orders, Susan approached cautiously. She pointed the gun at Sam's head and reached out to tighten the cuffs.

Sam swore under his breath. "Your fiancé is going to kill two innocent people to save his own skin. He's already killed a man. Is he worth all this?"

Susan stepped back. "Stuart didn't want to kill Frank. He just drank too much one night and he'd had enough of Frank hitting on me. That was before he was a deputy. He's sober now."

"A model citizen," Sam muttered sarcastically.

"He's a good man and he loves me," Susan stated firmly. "He just made a mistake."

"He's about to make another one," Sam insisted, hoping Susan would listen to reason.

His hopes were dashed with her soft reply.

"No one will ever know."

* * *


	7. Complications

Part 7 - Complications

The ride out to the grove was made in silence. The deputy gripped the steering wheel of the truck tightly and stared at the road ahead. Jones didn't bother trying to get more information out of Dean, which suited the elder Winchester brother just fine.

Dean hated riding in cop cars - it didn't matter that this time he was in the front seat of one. Cops just made things more complicated. It was much better for Dean and Sam to do their job without involving the law whenever possible.

In this case, though, involving the law was in their best interests. Frank Lawrence's body would be found and buried properly, and he would no longer run people over with ghost cars.

Dean was all for that.

Still, there was something unusual about that ghost. Lawrence, by all appearances, hadn't even bothered to show himself before Dean's night-time walk. That fact bothered Dean more than he wanted to admit.

He knew that he and his brother attracted supernatural beings. It wasn't anything unusual as far as he knew, it was simply that the Winchester boys noticed things other people passed by. Noticing paranormal things, in turn, resulted in one being _noticed_ by paranormal things. In the case of a ghost, however, it was very odd for isolated manifestations to occur.

Dean tapped his fingers on his knees. Maybe it was simply that he was the first person to walk the road at night following Lawrence's death. Maybe Lawrence knew he could help. In the end, he supposed it didn't really matter. Frank Lawrence had made his presence known and now it was Dean's problem to manage.

He glanced at Stuart Jones once again. The older man was another element that felt out-of-place. Dean couldn't help but feel something was not right with the deputy. Jones hadn't really wanted to drive out to investigate the wallet, or the possibility of a body in the woods. Dean was bothered by that fact. Most small-town lawmen were tripping over themselves to show everyone that they were in charge. There was bravado and threatening and marking of territory before anything was actually done.

In addition to that, with every minute that passed the older man grew more agitated and tense. The deputy was starting to push the speed limit and swerve slightly on the road. Dean was starting to have serious misgivings about being in the passenger seat. He pushed aside the notion that his brother probably felt like this every time he got into the Impala.

Jones let out a curse as he turned a corner and the sun shone into his eyes. He reached up and flipped down his visor, sending a small piece of paper falling to the floor between the seats. Dean reached over and picked it up.

It was a picture of a woman. It was a recent photo, but Dean recognised the smiling face.

Dean held it up so Jones could see it. "Pretty lady," he commented. "Wife?"

Jones snatched the picture out of Dean's hand, tucking it into his shirt pocket. "Fiancée."

"Susan Morris," Dean nodded, watching Jones' reaction.

No surprise crossed Jones' features.

"You already knew that I knew that, didn't you?" Dean asked shrewdly.

"Your brother is at her house right now," Jones replied. "He's got a picture of her from Frank's wallet."

"You don't sound happy about that," Dean commented dryly, but inwardly he cursed. This sucked. There was no reason why that would upset Jones unless the deputy had something to hide.

"You had something to do with Frank's death, didn't you?" Dean winced as soon as he said it. _Damn_! There were things you said out loud and there were things you kept to yourself until you were out of the moving vehicle.

Jones' face took on a hardened expression. "You should have left it well enough alone, kid. You should have dropped off the wallet and left town. Now I have to take care of a new mess."

"Killing me won't stop people from asking questions," Dean replied calmly. "My brother will make sure of that. What will you do when Susan finds out the truth?"

Jones smiled. "She already knows. She helped me hide the body."

He turned to face Dean. "As for your brother, he's on his way here right now. Pretty soon Frank'll have company in those woods."

Dean felt the anger rising in him. Who did this guy think he was? It wasn't far to the grove now. Dean had to do something quickly.

He silently cursed the fact that he didn't have his gun. He had three knives hidden on him, but he'd been worried a gun would be spotted by the sheriff and land him in jail again.

Now he wished he hadn't been concerned with keeping a low profile.

Dean glared at the deputy and was about to retort when he saw Jones' grin evaporate to be replaced by an expression of sheer horror.

Jones' slammed at the breaks and swerved the car to the right. Dean caught only a glimpse of what appeared to be a human figure standing in the road before his world literally turned upside down.

The truck left the pavement, heading straight into the ditch. Metal screeched in protest as the truck rolled. The battered vehicle finally came to a stop on its roof, the tires spinning in the air.

* * *


	8. Difficulties

I just wanted to thank you all again for the reviews! I'm really glad (and relieved) that you like it. :-)

On to the next part . . .

* * *

Part 8 - Difficulties

Dean let out a pained gasp as he opened his eyes. He blinked slowly, trying to figure out why his head hurt. His hands were hanging over his head, but resting on something soft. He tried to draw his arms back to his body, but they fell right back, once more hitting the soft object.

Dean's sluggish thoughts finally noted the strangeness in the fact that his arms were falling _up_.

Though the movement caused his head to pound, Dean looked up.

Jones was sprawled above him, unmoving. Dean's hands were brushing against the other man's shoulder.

_How is that possible?_ It took Dean a moment to realise that he was upside down.

Dean shifted slightly, hissing asthe seatbelt made its presence known.

Well, that explained how he was on the ceiling.

_Lawrence ran us off the road._

The thought disturbed Dean, but he didn't have time to ponder it further.

He looked up (or was it _down_?) to where Jones lay stunned on what had been the vehicle ceiling. The deputy was clearly not dead, and even now showed signs of stirring.

Dean swore and managed to bring his hands up to his seatbelt buckle. He had to get out! He clicked the release, but nothing happened.

Dean shook it and pulled, but his actions only succeeded in making him dizzier.

Jones groaned and shifted.

It was with another curse that Dean remembered his knives. Quickly reaching down to his boot, he pulled out his blade and began sawing through the belt.

Just before it finally gave in, Dean manoeuvred himself so he wouldn't fall on his head. Lowering himself from the seat nearly resulted in the elder Winchester losing his breakfast. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe normally while his stomach righted itself and the burst of pain in his brain receded to a dull throb.

He couldn't concentrate! He needed to get out of the truck – he had to find Sam. He had to move quickly!

Jones moaned again and stirred beside him.

Dean forced himself to lean over and push Jones out of the way so he could access the window. Luckily, it had been open during the crash because the door didn't look like it would be giving way anytime soon.

Dean began to crawl through the narrow hole, almost making it through before a hand grabbed his ankle in a tight grip.

"Going somewhere, kid?" Jones' rasping voice asked. Dean kicked at Jones and pulled his leg free, fighting the feeling of nausea once again rising in him.

He heard Jones curse but had no more time to react as the sound of a gun being cocked reached his ears.

Dean swore as he realised he was out of time. He rolled awkwardly to the side before climbing unsteadily to his feet.

The first bullet missed, but that was all the incentive Dean needed to put as much distance between himself and the armed man as possible.

Dean set off staggering into the woods, the bruises from the seatbelt making themselves known in addition to his pounding skull.

He risked a glance behind him and saw Jones already pulling himself from the car. The deputy rose to his feet with only a slight unsteadiness and took aim once more.

* * *

Sam lay on the floor in the backseat of Susan's car. He wished he knew what to do. He pulled again at the handcuffs keeping his hands behind his back. They didn't give, but then again, he knew they wouldn't.

He needed to get to Dean. He only hoped his brother wasn't already dead.

He couldn't see where they were, but he knew they must be close to the grove by now. Time was running out.

"Susan?" Sam spoke softly, not wanting to agitate the armed lady any further. "You really don't have to do this."

"If the police find out what Stuart did, he'll go to jail," Susan replied nervously, "and so will I."

"You can tell them you were afraid of your fiancé," Sam reasoned. "Tell them he made you help him. You will not be doing yourself any favours by adding two more deaths to your conscience."

"Just be quiet," Susan stated firmly. "I'm done talking to you, Sam. You seem like a nice kid, but I'm done."

There was silence for a moment as neither person knew what to do.

Susan broke the quiet. "Oh my God . . ."

Sam heard the horror in her voice and struggled to sit up. "What is it? What's happening?"

Susan pulled the car over, turning it off before climbing out. "You stay here," she ordered firmly, removing the keys from the ignition. "I still have the gun and I have very good aim."

She locked the doors behind her before crossing out of Sam's view.

The younger Winchester finally managed to pull himself onto the backseat so he could see out the window. What he saw made his blood run cold.

The deputy's truck lay on its roof, the tires spinning lazily in the air.

_Dean was in that car . . . _

Sam turned and found the door handle with his cuffed hands. He fumbled for the lock button. He clicked it, and then tried the door.

Nothing happened.

Frowning, Sam tried again. It was with a frustrated groan that he finally saw the sticker on the other window advertising the child safety locks on the back doors.

He cursed vehemently and turned to climb over the seat into the front, but he was out of time. Susan had returned.

She unlocked the doors, pointing her gun at Sam as she opened the driver's side door. "Get back on the floor, Sam," she said shakily.

"Susan! Was he in there?" Sam asked desperately. "My brother! Was he in the car?"

Susan shuddered and took a trembling breath. "No one was in there."

Sam let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "We have to find them. Susan, this can't happen! You can't let Stuart kill my brother!"

"I told you before, Sam. I have no choice." Her eyes hardened. "Now get down before I have to shoot you."

Sam held her gaze before moving to comply.

He fought back a feeling of helplessness as the car started once more. What was he going to do?

* * *


	9. Hunting

Thank you again for all the reviews! The enthusiastic response to the last two chapters really inspired me, so I spent the last few hours working on this part. :-)

I also wrote most of the next part, so it shouldn't be too long before I update again. I'm thinking there will be two more chapters before I'm done (or possibly three).

Anyway, here's the next part and I hope you like it!

* * *

**Part 9 - Hunting**

Dean swore as the bullet came far too close for comfort. Adrenaline surged through him, urging him on. He ran, stumbling again as he crashed through the trees. The forest in this area had been untouched by the fire and the underbrush wasn't as thick as in the grove. It was still enough to slow him down, though.

Through the pounding in his head, he heard the sounds of Stuart's pursuit. The man was far too close. Dean swallowed the fear that was rising in him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to die at the hands of a murderous lawman. To top it all off, the same murderous lawman was going to kill his brother once he was finished with Dean.

Dean wondered if it would be wrong to kill the sheriff. He'd always looked on people as different from the creatures he hunted. In this case, he knew he was wrong. Stuart Jones was going to kill him and his brother. That, in Dean's book, made him as evil as the beings he had destroyed all his life.

That realisation did little to help, though. Dean couldn't get anywhere near the sheriff to disarm him or take him out.

Without warning, Dean tripped again, falling into the bushes. He bit back a pained cry as he hit the ground. He heard Jones' loud footfalls nearing his position.

There was no time to run now. Dean rolled, pulling his feet in close to his body and hoping the bushes would hide him from view. He stopped moving not a moment too soon as Jones thundered past his hiding spot. Dean hardly dared to breathe, expecting any second to feel the bullet that would end his life. Jones continued running.

Dean felt a disbelieving smile form on his face. He couldn't _believe_ that worked!

He waited a few moments before he cautiously pulled himself out of the bushes. There was no sign of Jones. Dean knew where the deputy would go, though.

Taking a moment to get his bearings and allow the pain in his head to subside, Dean headed off towards the grove. With any luck, Jones would keep looking for him for awhile. If Dean hurried, he could possibly even beat Jones there and rescue his brother before Susan knew what was happening.

* * *

Sam walked slowly into the grove, Susan's gun pressed firmly into his back. 

He looked around, terrified that he might see his brother's lifeless body discarded in the dirt. Sam could feel the tension rising off of Susan as she worried over Stuart.

"They could still be alive," he told her. "We can go and look for them."

"We'll wait here," Susan replied shortly. "Stuart!" Her loud yell startled Sam, who had been straining to hear anything in the surrounding trees.

"Stuart!" She called again, making Sam wince.

"We should look," Sam insisted again. "They could be hurt from the accident." He cautiously turned to face Susan, keeping his movements slow in the hopes that she wouldn't be alarmed into shooting him.

"Undo the cuffs, Susan," he said calmly. "We can find them and end this. No one has to die."

Susan's face showed her conflicted emotions. Sam knew she wanted to find her fiancé, but she also feared what would happen if the truth was revealed.

She shook her head. "I can't," she whispered. "I can't."

She looked at Sam then, steeling herself for what was to come. "You have to die, Sam. You and your brother have to disappear. It's the only way Stuart and I will be safe."

"Susan, don't do this." Sam kept his voice calm and level, though he felt his anger growing. He didn't survive all the tragedies of his life to be done in by human beings! He wasn't about to let _people _kill his brother, either.

Susan didn't flinch.

Sam took a cautious step forward. "I don't think you want to kill me, or my brother, do you?"

"Stay back!" Susan's voice was hard. "I'll do what I have to do to protect the man I love, Sam."

"I suggest you do what the lady says, kid." A new voice cut into the conversation.

Sam turned to see Stuart Jones approach, holding a gun calmly in his hands. A gun that was pointed at Sam.

"Stuart!" Susan cried in relief, noting the blood on her fiancé's face. "Are you all right?"

"Just fine, Sue," he replied, never taking his eyes off Sam as he stepped up to the younger Winchester.

Sam could only stare at the man as his breath refused to come. Where was Dean? Why wasn't Dean with the sheriff? Had Jones already killed him?

The sheriff gripped Sam's jacket and pulled him over to a tree. He pressed Sam's back against it and stepped back, his gun never lowering.

Jones kept his eyes and his gun on Sam as he held out his free arm to Susan.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice almost tender as he pulled her into a one-armed hug.

Under normal circumstances, Sam would have thought the gesture sweet, but the thought that these people were murderers sickened him instead.

"Where's my brother?" he called to them. To hell with their heart-warming moment. "Where's Dean?"

The pair ignored him as Susan looked up at Stuart. "I couldn't kill him, Stu. I knew if I waited, you would do it."

Stuart nodded. "It's okay. I'll do it. We just have to wait a minute first."

"Why?" Susan asked in confusion.

"The other one got away. As long as we have his brother, he'll come here. If we kill this one, he'll just run and we'll never find him before he tells everyone what he knows."

Sam felt almost ill with relief at those words. Dean was still alive! He was free. Sam scanned the surrounding bushes, trying to see if he could spot his brother.

No movement betrayed Dean's presence.

* * *

Dean cursed as he took in the scene before him. He hadn't beaten Jones to the grove, though he'd pushed his abused body to its limits. He was too late for a quick and easy snatch-and-run rescue. Sam was handcuffed and both Jones and Susan were armed. 

All Dean had were some lousy knives. He again mentally cursed the thought that he had purposely removed his weapons before going to see the sheriff. To think he'd been worried about being arrested again!

Blinking to clear his blurred vision, Dean could see Sam searching the bushes, looking for him, but Dean couldn't bring attention to himself yet.

He heard the muffled conversation between the two murderous lovers and knew that he didn't have much time.

Dean swore under his breath. What was he going to do?

His decision was made for him when Stuart walked over to Sam and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head back.

The deputy put his gun under Sam's chin and called into the forest. "C'mon out, Dean!"

Dean groaned. Why could things never be simple?

"I'll shoot him, Dean!" Jones stated conversationally. He might as well have been discussing the weather

Dean was lost. He couldn't let them shoot his brother, but if he went out there, they were both dead. That would help no one.

"I'm going to count to three, Dean!" Jones was yelling now. "If I have to get to three, I'm gonna start shooting!"

Dean's breath caught in his throat. Jones was serious.

"One!"

Dean swore vehemently. He needed more time! This couldn't be happening! He could see the fear on Sam's face. He couldn't let Sam die – he couldn't watch his brother die! He just needed a few freakin' minutes to come up with a plan! Why couldn't he _think_?

"Two!"

_Shit._

* * *


	10. Stuart Jones

Sorry for the delay. I really thought it would get posted earlier, but I ended up having to go to the city for the day and things (time-wise, anyway) went downhill from there. I will _definitely_ post the next chapter sometime tomorrow, though (as early as possible). No more long waits, I promise. :-)

* * *

**Part 10 – Stuart Jones**

Sam stood silently, gritting his teeth and trying not to picture his brains being splattered over the forest floor.

For all his experience with guns, Sam didn't think he'd been on this side of one all that frequently. Okay, maybe he had been, but one really couldn't count cops. They usually wanted you alive, so there was no great danger of death. This guy wasn't like that, though. He wanted the Winchester boys dead, one way or another, and there wasn't anything Sam could do about it.

Sam drew in a shallow breath, trying not to jar the gun under his chin. With his luck, Stuart would have an itchy trigger-finger. Best not to find out.

"I'm going to count to three, Dean!" Sam winced as Stuart's voice yelled beside his ear. "If I have to get to three, I'm gonna start shooting!"

Sam's eyes widened. This sucked.

"One!"

Stuart's grip on Sam's hair tightened.

"Two!"

_Shit_.

The clicking sound of a bullet entering the chamber sounded jarringly loud to Sam. He wanted to call out and tell Dean to run, but no sound came out.

This was how it would end.

"Wait!" Dean's voice cut through Sam's thoughts. He turned his eyes as far as he could to the side where Dean was emerging from the foliage. "I'm here – don't shoot!"

Sam groaned. _That_ was Dean's plan?

Sam could feel Jones start to smile. "Well, that was a smart choice, kid."

The deputy removed the gun from Sam's neck and patted his head before turning the gun on Dean. Sam felt his knees weaken with relief, but stubbornly refused to give into the urge to slide to the ground. It had been close, but it wasn't over yet.

"You caused me quite a bit of trouble," Stuart stated to the elder Winchester.

"The feeling's mutual," Dean assured him.

Dean glanced over at Sam and tried to look reassuring. Sam didn't have to tell him that he failed miserably. The elder Winchester's face was scratched and bruised and he didn't look quite _right_. Dean's eyes looked slightly glassy and from the way he was blinking, Sam was willing to bet his brother's vision was not at its best. Dean probably had a concussion. As worried as he was for his brother, however, Sam had to admit that they had more immediate problems.

Dean swayed slightly as Jones grabbed his collar. "Watch the jacket!" he protested.

"Don't drag this out, Stu," Susan begged. She had been standing silently beside Dean, but was beginning to look desperate. Sam knew the longer they delayed, the more likely it was that Susan would have second thoughts..

_Great_. He just had to stop the madman from shooting his brother until Susan changed her mind. _No problem._

He watched helplessly as Jones acknowledged Susan's fears. His expression hardened and he raised his gun to Dean's face.

Sam felt light-headed. This wasn't possible. Jones was going to shoot Dean! He tugged frantically at the handcuffs, trying to get loose. He couldn't let this happen!

Jones looked up and smiled at Sam; a chillingly emotionless smile that promised no mercy.

Reality came back into focus with crystalline clarity. Sam took a deep breath and yelled, launching himself at Jones.

Jones looked up, startled, as Sam slammed into him. They fell to the ground. Sam kicked at the deputy, but with his hands secured behind him, he knew it would be a losing battle.

He landed an elbow solidly in Stuart's side before rolling off him. Sam rolled a short distance away, effectively placing himself beyond Stuart's reach. He could only hope that Dean would now be able to take Jones out before the deputy recovered.

"You little punk!" Jones hissed at Sam as he struggled to his knees. He raised his gun once more.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Dean's voice was hard.

Dean had not been idle during Sam's distraction. As Sam tackled the deputy, Dean had grabbed Susan, wresting the gun from her grasp and pulling her in front of him.

Dean wasn't usually the kind of guy to hold hostages, but this was definitely not the time to be picky about such niceties.

"Put the gun down and I won't hurt her," Dean ordered.

"You won't kill her," Jones stated confidently, though his eyes betrayed his worry. "You don't have it in you."

Dean's eyes hardened. "You say that to me when you're threatening to kill us? Man, you have no _idea_ what I have in me to do."

Sam was watching the exchange in silence, but Dean caught a strange look in his brother's eyes.

Something was happening.

The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise. A definite chill came over the grove. Dean had been around the supernatural for too long not to know that something was drawing near.

Taking a gamble, Dean smiled. "He's coming for you, Jones. Frank is coming, and he's not happy to see you."

* * *

Jones looked behind Dean where a fog was slowly forming. A shudder ran through his body, but he tried to suppress it. 

This was ridiculous. There was nothing to fear in the fog.

A light formed at the centre of the mist. Jones bit back a startled gasp. What was happening?

"He's coming for you," Sam whispered.

Jones glared at Sam, but found his gaze drawn back to the light. It was brighter now.

It was too close. The light was forming something . . . a shape.

_Frank_.

Jones recoiled in horror. This wasn't possible! Frank Lawrence was dead!

Frank was coming closer. He wasn't walking; he seemed to glide over the uneven ground.

Jones crawled backwards, hoping to get away from the advancing figure. Frank kept coming.

Jones finally found his voice. "Stay back!" he warned the spectre.

When it showed no signs of stopping, Jones raised his gun once more and began to fire madly into the mist.


	11. Retribution

**Part 11 – Retribution**

Dean swore when Jones began shooting.

He shoved Susan to the ground, covering her head with his arms and hoping they were out of the line of fire. The mist obscured his vision, but he could clearly see the form of Frank Lawrence gliding across the grove.

The shooting stopped and Jones' horrified yell rang out.

Through the swirling fog, Dean caught a glimpse of Jones' retreating form. The deputy ran from the clearing as fast as he could.

"Stuart!" Susan screamed from under Dean's grip. She began to struggle.

"Calm down, lady." Dean tried to grab her wrists, but she managed to knee him in the groin.

The elder Winchester went down.

Susan grabbed the gun. She threw a fleeting look at the fog and was horrified to see Frank only a few metres in front of her.

Holding the gun in her shaking grip, Susan pleaded with the figure. "I didn't want any of this to happen, Frank. Please! Don't hurt me!"

The spectre appeared almost sad as it reached for her.

* * *

Sam swore as Jones began firing blindly into the fog. He rolled to the side, knowing that the deputy was so panicked, he was likely going to hit everything except his target. 

Sam renewed his struggle to relieve himself of the handcuffs, gritting his teeth as the metal cut into his wrists.

Jones let out a scream of pure terror before turning and fleeing the clearing.

Sam wasted no time in climbing awkwardly to his feet.

He heard Susan scream and headed towards her voice.

He knew he should have gone after Jones, but fear for his brother drove him into the swirling mist.

When he finally saw them, Dean was lying on the ground and Susan was pointing her gun at the ghost of Frank Lawrence.

Sam rushed to his brother's side. Dean's pain-filled voice was cursing creatively, but he was alive. Sam positioned himself so he was shielding Dean from Susan and Frank.

The two figures didn't seem to realise the Winchester brothers were even present.

Susan began to weep. "I didn't mean to," she cried. "I'm so sorry."

Frank held his hands out to her.

Susan screamed and began to fire into the fog. Frank did not react.

Sam instinctively tried to cover Dean's head, but Dean wouldn't let him. Dean grabbed Sam's arm and started to pull him back from Susan and Frank.

Susan kept firing until the weapon was empty. She pulled the trigger anyway, as though hoping to stave off the ghost by sheer will.

Without warning, Frank vanished. The fog swirled and began to dissipate with an unnatural rapidity.

"What the hell is going on here?" A startled voice rang through the clearing.

Sam and Dean looked up to see an older man enter the grove. He wore the uniform of a sheriff. The man's eyes appraised the situation, noting Dean's injuries and the handcuffs still holding Sam's hand behind his back before focussing on the gun in Susan's hands.

He didn't know what the hell was going on, but the gun was a good place to start.

"Susan," he said with a placating calm. "Put down the gun."

"He came back," Susan whispered. "How did he come back?"

The older sheriff approached her cautiously, reaching out before he finally took the gun from her suddenly limp fingers.

"He came back," Susan muttered, wringing her hands. "It isn't possible."

"What is going on here?" the sheriff demanded.

Sam and Dean struggled to their feet, the elder Winchester leaning slightly on his brother.

Sam was the first to speak. "Before we tell you that, we have to find Stuart Jones. He's the one who murdered Frank Lawrence. He ran towards the road, so we have to hurry."

The sheriff shook his head slowly. "Stuart Jones is dead."

The two brothers stared at him in shock.

"What happened?" Dean managed to ask.

"I heard reports of a car accident out this way. I was on my way to check it out when he ran out in front of my truck," the sheriff replied, a haunted look in his eyes. "I didn't have time to stop."

Susan began to weep again at the news, covering her face with her hands.

The sheriff looked at Susan and then back to Dean and Sam. "I think you boys have a lot of explaining to do."

* * *

**Epilogue**

Sam let out a relieved sigh as he entered the hotel room. He was beyond exhausted and knew his brother was, too.

The brothers had spent most of the day answering questions from Sheriff Masters. The sheriff was not pleased that his deputy was dead and less than pleased that it was his truck that had done the deed.

Dean and Sam stuck with the story of hikers who found a lost wallet in the woods. Jones was dead, and anything Susan said was being taken with a healthy dose of scepticism. In the minds of everyone involved, the guilt had simply been too much for her, and she was to be taken for psychiatric evaluation pending her trial.

The brothers were allowed to leave once the sheriff was satisfied that they had nothing more to do with the incident.

Sam had driven back to the hotel as Dean dealt with the lingering discomfort of a monster headache. Offers of a trip to the hospital had been met with steadfast refusal and finally threats of retribution should Sam disregard Dean's wishes in the matter.

They both had wanted to leave as soon as possible, but were forced to admit that driving while exhausted was just plain stupid. They decided to stay the night in their hotel room and recuperate before leaving the next morning.

Sam helped Dean into the room where his older brother all but fell into bed. Sam flopped himself down on his own bed, not caring that his clothes were filthy. With a supreme act of will, he managed to turn his head far enough to see his brother.

He smiled to see Dean's eyes open and looking back at him. "We are a sorry pair, aren't we?"

Dean snorted in response.

"You know, tomorrow you're going to have to tell me what happened in that car accident."

Dean smirked slightly. "You have to tell me how you were caught by a waitress."

Sam rolled his eyes.

They were silent a moment longer before Sam once again felt the need to speak.

"Why do you suppose he appeared to you? I mean, in three years, he does nothing. Then, when you show up, he's doing all sorts of interesting things." Sam rolled over to see Dean more clearly. "Why do you suppose that is?"

Dean shook his head slightly. "I don't know, Sam. Maybe he really did just like me."

Sam sighed. Secretly, he thought there was more to it than that. There were too many unanswered questions for his liking. Sometimes, though, secrets had to remain secrets. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind.

He had almost drifted off when he heard Dean's tired voice. "You know what sucks, Sammy?"

"What?" Sam responded without opening his eyes.

"I never did get my drink."

* * *

The End 

Well, that's it. It's over. Thank you all for sticking with it and I hope you liked it!

:-)


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